


A Spark (To Light the Way Home)

by writing_as_tracey



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bending (Avatar), F/M, Gen, Genre: Action-Adventure, Hakoda & Ozai somehow become best friends, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Ozai's A+ Parenting, Pre-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Sporadic Updates if At All, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, genre: fantasy, slowburn Zutara, the Southern Water Tribe becomes a Fire Nation colony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25182262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_as_tracey/pseuds/writing_as_tracey
Summary: There was nothing for it,Hakoda realized later that evening, as he looked over the weary, lined, and hungry faces of his tribe.“You have to take the deal,” murmured Kya from behind him as she placed a hand on his back. She was a warm, solid presence. “We have no other choice if we wish to survive.”Azulon offers the Southern Water Tribe a deal for survival, and it changeseverything-- or... does it? Sometimes, destiny can't be altered.
Relationships: Hakoda & Ozai (Avatar), Hakoda/Kya (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Ozai/Ursa (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 176





	1. I: Do I Not Destroy My Enemies, by Making Them My Friends?

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place 9 years before Azulon’s death (and 14 before canon) -- so Iroh is still the Crown Prince but already widowed. There is a significant age difference between Iroh and Ozai, so I’ve done about a decade between the two: my headcanon is that Iroh is 51 in A:tLA, making Ozai 39. Iroh was 24 when he had Lu Ten and Ozai was 23 when Zuko was born. Hakoda is the same age as Ozai. Here, Lu Ten is 13; Zuko and Sokka are 2 (as is Suki, Yue); Mai is 1; Azula, Ty Lee, and Katara are not yet born. 
> 
> Furthermore, I’ve headcanoned the Water Tribes as Canadian First Nations, so any foreign words you come across for them is from (very poorly translated) Inuktut.
> 
> Chapter one and two (interlude), will primarily focus on Hakoda, but then there will be a time-skip with Zuko, Sokka, Azula, Katara, etc., as the main characters. Feel free to come back then when those are posted instead.
> 
>  **Finally** : This story’s subtitle is “Hakoda is Essentially Galen Erso & Has a Really Shitty Time Dealing with Fire Nation Royalty, Including One Who Won’t Leave Him Alone & Furthermore, their Sons Become Bros while Katara Remains a Fish out of Water in the Fire Nation.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azulon makes the Southern Water Tribes a deal Hakoda can't refuse.

A Spark (To Light the Way Home)

I: Do I Not Destroy My Enemies, by Making Them My Friends?

* * *

Hakoda’s heart pounded furiously against his ribs. The blood was rushing through his ears, matching his heartbeats. He could barely hear over the roar, and his only thought was to make it back to the village as soon as possible.

“It’ll be okay,” Bato was saying at his side, where they both stood at the bow of their fishing vessel. 

The young chief said nothing, eyes fixated on the horizon, where he could already see a dark smudge and its billowing smoke casting a striking image against the icy expanse. The wind was in their favour, cutting the ship across the tops of the waves as the ship moved steadily closer and closer to the Fire Nation battleship, anchored at the correct depth just off the ice sheet they called home.

Once Hakoda could make out the tiny huts that made their village, his eyes scanned them quickly for the markings of smoke, burns, and, inevitably, the dead. But, to his surprise, there was none.

But there was a delegation of seven Fire Nation soldiers waiting for them as his ship - the _Kanguq_ \- all spread out on the ice with one standing just in front of them. He was around the same age as Hakoda, maybe a bit older, but the scraggly appearance of his long hair and long face made him seem a decade older at least.

Hakoda jumped from the bow of the Kanguq as soon as he could, lightly landing in the compact snow. He took a few, crunching steps forward to be in speaking range, but hopefully far enough to be hit with a blast of fire.

The Fire Nation man eyed him, dark gold-brown eyes flickering behind as Bato beached the ship. Then they returned to Hakoda. “Are you the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe?”

Hakoda nodded slowly. He was one of the youngest - becoming chief half through the heredity of his mother’s position as eldest in the tribe, and half through completing several trials to demonstrate his abilities to lead. 

“I am Yon Rha,” the man stated, “On behalf of Fire Lord Azulon - long may he reign - I have an offer for you.”

“Have you stepped foot in our village?” demanded Hakoda instead. “Hurt anyone? Killed?”

Rha shook his head. “We went in to speak to you, only for your wife to tell us you were out hunting. We have not killed anyone.”

 _Lies,_ Hakoda wanted to hiss, but he would take the man at face value for now. 

“Your offer,” Rha continued, holding out a scroll wrapped in red ribbon. Its ends moved a bit in a cold breeze that came off the ocean and icebergs that floated by.

Neither man moved for a long, long time, until Hakoda took a step forward, and then another. He did stop halfway, though, and let Yon Rha take the final steps toward him. The exchange was done silently, and Hakoda opened the scroll immediately to begin reading.

 _Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribes_ began the missive, and Hakoda already felt anger stirring in his gut as the Fire Lord refused to begin with his title or any respect. But still, he kept reading, his eyebrows shooting up higher and higher until they disappeared beneath his hair and the edge of his hood.

“Is this a joke?” he finally asked through gritted teeth at Yon Rha.

The man shook his head. “I don’t know what it says. All I know is that I am to give it to you, and wait two days for your reply.”

“What happens if you don’t have a reply after two days?” asked Hakoda shrewdly.

Yon Rha did not reply, and truthfully, Hakoda already knew what would happen. Swallowing thickly, he clutched at the scroll until his knuckles turned white and the paper crumpled. He had no other choice but to bring it up to the elders and his tribe for discussion, as it would impact them all.

“Two days,” agreed Hakoda thickly. “Stay away until then. I don’t want to see your ship.”

Yon Rha could be gracious, it seemed, as he tipped his head slightly in a mocking bow, and then turned on his heel. The six other soldiers followed him in procession, leading to a smaller dinghy they used to come ashore from their battleship. 

Hakoda watched them, a part of him aware that Bato had come to his elbow.

“What was that about?” his friend and second in command muttered.

“Call a tribe meeting,” replied Hakoda. “As soon as possible.”

* * *

 _There was nothing for it_ , Hakoda realized later that evening, as he looked over the weary, lined, and hungry faces of his tribe. The once numerous tribe had been chipped away at over the decades since Sozin’s genocide of the Air Nomads, and through natural issues of death, low birth rates, and hunger due to migratory seals, whales, and fishing routes that had been disrupted by the increased Fire Nation boat traffic to the Earth Kingdom. 

“You have to take the deal,” murmured Kya from behind him as she placed a hand on his back. She was a warm, solid presence. “We have no other choice if we wish to survive.”

“We’re dead if we take it,” he replied bitterly. “What is left of the Southern Water Tribe will be destroyed.”

“Changed, maybe. But they can’t destroy our stories, our culture,” she replied. “ _We_ know the land, the animals. _We_ know the weather patterns and how the ice floes move. They’ll need us.”

“At first.”

Kya hummed. “And then we’ll just have to make sure that we remain necessary. We are Water Tribe, my love.”

Hakoda leaned back, the slightest bit, against Kya and closed his eyes. His tension headache began to fade. “We are water. We _adapt_.”

“Oh, no, my love,” murmured Kya as she pressed her chest against his back. Hakoda’s lips twitched up in a smile as he felt the baby in her stomach kicked against him.

His wife hummed and then hooked her chin over his shoulder and pressed her cool lips to his ear. “We don’t adapt - we _erode_ all obstacles in our way. We’re just patient about it.”

Hakoda’s mouth stretched into a smile. But it faded soon after. “They’ll want me in Caldera.” He turned his head enough to catch Kya’s deep blue eyes, almost appearing indigo in certain lights. “They might want _us_ in Caldera.”

Kya kissed his neck. “Erode, ‘Koda. Slowly, surely. We can handle the Fire Nation.”

He sighed. “I hope so.”

* * *

Hakoda met Yon Rha the following day, just outside the village and its tiny, makeshift walls that wouldn’t keep out a polar dog. 

Despite the arguments against the offer - which were all valid and well-thought - this was their only option unless they wanted to be like the Air Nomads. There was a good chance that the Northern Water Tribe would be next, but they had the people, the _benders_ , and tall, thick walls, to protect them. They did not.

“What is your decision?” asked Yon Rha, his voice snapping across the floe. He stood with half the number of men this time - only three - and they were far enough from the village that they were out of any projectile range if the village even had any to use. They used clubs for that reason. 

Hakoda glanced back, once, through the small opening to see the village, his people, fearfully watching from underneath their parka hoods. At the front stood his mother and wife, along with their son. Hakoda caught Sokka’s eyes and watched as his two-year-old son met his stare head-on, tilting his chin up, despite clutching at his mother’s legs.

 _I’m doing this for them,_ he thought, his heart clenching in worry that this would be the last image he had of his home and heart.

Hakoda turned back to face Rha. He squared his shoulders, throwing them back a bit as he firmed his stance, spreading his legs a bit. He did not cross his arms, as much as he wanted to.

“The Southern Water Tribe accepts Fire Lord Azulon’s offer,” he said, his voice ringing across the space between himself and Rha. Despite the positive words, he was angry and sour at being forced into the deal, and his tone reflected that.

Rha nodded. That was the only option, in the end, and they all knew it. “Very well. Chief Hakoda, we will allow you a few minutes to say your goodbyes, and then we will travel directly to the Fire Nation.”

“No need,” muttered Hakoda, stepping forward. “I already said my goodbyes.”

Yon Rha did not argue; he merely raised a single eyebrow before turning around. Hakoda found himself with two Fire Nation soldiers beside him and one behind as he followed the man toward the large ship. He felt jittery, unsafe, but for his family - his tribe? He would do anything.

* * *

Caldera was _hot_. There was an abundance of red everywhere - in their flags, uniforms, regular civilian clothing, and even their food - to the point that, standing on the deck of the Southern Raider’s deck, Hakoda felt overwhelmed. 

But then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and _inhaled_. He grounded himself, slowly exhaling as he let his body sway gently with the movement of the ship beneath his feet, feeling something familiar come over him once again.

It was hot, yes; but the air was humid, sticky with water. 

Their flags, uniform, and clothing were red, yes; but all around him were islands surrounded by crystal clear blue waters with the gentlest, turquoise seafoam that rolled on top of the waves that brushed against the harbour at the base of the dormant volcano that doubled as the capital of the Fire Nation. 

The food that Hakoda could spy - red crabs, lobsters, fish - all came from the ocean.

If Hakoda had to give up the Southern Water Tribe, then at least he could appreciate that he wasn’t far from his natural habitat and elements, even if he was in enemy territory.

“This way,” called Yon Rha, gesturing to Hakoda to follow him. They had docked while he was observing the harbour, and several rows of soldiers in their bone-white skull masks lined the dock, their eyes fixated on the Water Tribesman as he followed, hitching his pack higher on his shoulder.

They were taken directly to the royal palace, at the top of the volcano where it had hollowed and created a lush valley. The palace was quite beautiful, all white and gold marble and red columns lined with statues of dragons. Had it not been the Fire Nation, Hakoda could have found himself appreciating the craftsmanship. It wasn’t like the Southern Water Tribe had time for architectural merit.

Down one of the many corridors Hakoda was taken, still with Yon Rha, there were several men in long robes waiting for them. 

Rha bowed. “Fire Sages.”

They dismissed the man with a glance, the oldest with a long mustache and beard turning his eyes to Hakoda instead. Something flickered in them, and his mouth puckered, but the man rasped out: “Chief Hakoda. You are about to meet with the Fire Lord. There are certain etiquettes to observe--”

Hakoda tuned him out. _Azulon_ wrote him the letter. If he didn’t like what he got, that wasn’t Hakoda’s problem.

“--bow when you first enter,” one sage was instructing.

“--do not look the Fire Lord in the eyes--”

“--address him as ‘Fire Lord’ or ‘Your Highness’ and nothing else--”

“--never present your back--”

And then they were at the door, and two guards were pushing it open, revealing a long, rectangular throne room. The focal point was opposite the main door: a dais that towered over the room with a thick curtain of velvet as background. A man sat _seiza_ , although it was hard to tell with the wall of fire that separated him from the rest of the occupants in the room.

At the base of the dais were two rows of men in uniform - and Hakoda was quick to note, a few women - all in the same _seiza_ sitting position with straight backs and hands calmly folded in their laps. There was a center aisle between them leading to the dais, and closest to it were two men in much nicer uniforms than the others.

“Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribes, Fire Lord Azulon,” announced the Fire Sage who first spoke when Hakoda entered the palace. Then, the three men bowed and back away, slowly, to the door, which opened and whisked them away. 

At Hakoda’s side, Yon Rha bowed low.

Hakoda merely raised an eyebrow, and then gave a shallow bow of his head. Somewhere, someone hissed at his disrespect.

“Yon Rha,” a rumbly voice emerged from behind the fire curtain, “There was no deviation from your orders?”

Yon Rha, still bowing, spoke to the floor but loudly for the Fire Lord to hear. “No, Your Highness. No raids were conducted while delivering your message.”

The flames crackled in the silence that followed. Finally, the Fire Lord declared, sweeping his hand, “You may leave now, Yon Rha.”

“Fire Lord,” the captain said, not even glancing at Hakoda as he backed away, still bowed until he reached the door. It opened and he slipped out, only turning on his heel to face forward once he stepped over the threshold. 

Then, Hakoda was alone in a room of the most powerful Fire Nation generals, admirals, and benders in the world.

“So, _you_ are the chief of the tribe,” the Fire Lord rumbled.

“Yes,” replied Hakoda simply, throwing away all custom as he peered up at the flames. “I am.”

Hakoda could feel the anger building in the room at his disrespect; he even saw the younger of the two men nearest the dais clench his fists tightly, steam escaping between the grooves of his hands.

The flame sizzled and then split, to the shock of those below. The figure sitting rose from their knees and began walking down the marble steps, stepping through the two columns of fire. They came to a stop near the two younger men at the front of the rows, and the wall of flames merged again behind him.

Hakoda was impressed, but he would never admit that.

Azulon - the Fire Lord - was old. He had a neatly trimmed long, white beard and sideburns which accentuated his high forehead and the way he pulled back his long white hair. The flame crown sat neatly on his head, holding the equivalent of a wolf’s tail in place. The Fire Lord was also tall and skinny, all sharp angles that the folds of his robe did not hide.

But his eyes - dark honey, or burnt amber that flickered in the low candlelight of the throne room - were shrewd when he surveyed Hakoda.

“You voluntarily came here, boy,” Azulon coolly said. “Show some respect.”

“I came because not doing so would have resulted in you eradicating my tribe, just like your father did the Air Nomads,” retorted Hakoda, feeling a bit reckless. “We’re already starving due to your ships interrupting our fishing routes and natural aquatic migrations. I could also mention the waterbenders, but…” he finished off with a shrug.

Azulon stared at Hakoda for a long, long moment. Dizzily, Hakoda wondered if he was about to see a fireball heading his way, and a swift death. Instead, a strange sound emerged from deep within Azulon’s chest.

The two men in fancy uniforms nearest him, almost perpendicular, jerked at the noise, both looking up and staring at him in shock. The youngest schooled his features quicker, but both remain wide-eyed.

It took Hakoda a few moments to realize that Azulon was _laughing_. From the corner of his eye, he saw one of the generals shudder.

“You do get a good deal,” said Azulon eventually as his deep, rattling laugh tapered off. He eyed the tribesman. “Do you agree to the terms, Hakoda?”

Hakoda’s eye twitched at the lack of recognition of his chiefdom, but he swallowed thickly. “The Southern Water Tribe will become a colony of the Fire Nation. We will receive monthly shipments of food and other goods. We will produce food and goods for trade within the Fire Nation. We will enter a state of non-aggression toward any Fire Nation people, ships, or ground forces. A permanent Fire Nation outpost will be created in my village.”

Azulon’s eyes glittered. “And in return, you remain here.”

“As your prisoner,” finished Hakoda bitterly.

“Oh, no,” chuckled Azulon, putting his hands behind his back as he stared down the younger man, “I have plans for you.” 

Alarmed, Hakoda stiffened.

Azulon’s smile was not nice. “You see - my navy is having some trouble getting to the Earth Kingdom in a timely manner. And, despite your… _primitiveness_ ,” Azulon made a face, “it is well known that the Water Tribes have some of the best ships.”

Hakoda blinked. _What…?_

“As much as it pains me to admit that, I am much more interested in ensuring that the Fire Nation has the best,” the man continued. “And Water Tribe knowledge in nautical matters is the best there is. Which was another reason to extend the offer to you and not your sister tribe.”

 _And I’m sure their thick ice walls and superior benders had nothing to do with it,_ thought Hakoda darkly, but he slowly nodded at what Azulon was saying.

“So you want my help,” he said.

Azulon’s mouth turned up in a parody of a smile - but it was a cruel one. “Yes. You will help us design and build ships that are more efficient,” continued Azulon. “You will have a room here in Caldera, guards, and tutors. You will work with all my fleet officers and admirals, coordinating with them. Do you understand?”

Hakoda swallowed any angry retorts. Instead, he bowed - much lower this time, similar to Yon Rha, and muttered, “Yes, Fire Lord Azulon.”

When he glanced up at the man, there was a smug expression on the Fire Lord’s face. “Excellent. I am glad we could come to this agreement amicably. We will, of course, sign on it.”

At those words, a scribe appeared, startling Hakoda. The man was in all red, and he must have blended into the red curtains that were strategically draped around the corners of the room, as entrance and exit points for servants to move between. 

A scroll was handed to Azulon first, and without even reading it the man scribbled his signature using a stylus. Then, the scribe turned to Hakoda and presented him with the scroll, which outlined the same terms he had received in the South Pole. The only difference was the Fire Lord’s signature at the bottom, and, surprising Hakoda, a list of immediate items that would be sent to the tribe, including non-perishable foods and fabric. 

Suppressing his feelings, Hakoda signed his name next to the Fire Lord’s. It was signing away his life and soul, but it was for the survival of his people. The scribe snapped up the scroll, wrapping it in red ribbon and bowed, backing away and disappearing into the darkness around the central throne aisle. 

Still, Hakoda couldn’t stop himself. “What now?”

“Now? Let us speak of better things,” began Azulon pleasantly, turning back to his dais. “You _are_ losing your status as leader, and by all accounts, you are a good one with loyal men. However, a Fire Nation colony can’t have that. In lieu of such, I propose granting you the title of _rear admiral_ would be sufficient to make up for the loss.”

“Your Highness!” gasped one of the generals in shock, speaking out of turn. “Surely not--”

“You dare question your Fire Lord!” the younger of the two men nearest the Fire Lord spat, jumping sharply to his feet. Hakoda froze in shock and as a defense mechanism as two thin streams of fire burst from the man’s hands in the shape of daggers. “I would challenge you to an Agni Kai--”

But Azulon put a hand up, cutting the younger man off abruptly. He did not turn around. “Silence, Ozai. I’m sure that General Li-Haung meant nothing by his comment.”

The general paled to a sickly white and then nodded, muttering his apologies. He kept his chin low to his chest and his eyes on the floor in front of him.

The man - Ozai - breathed steam from his nose. He glowered at the room at large and then sat back down stiffly, his flames extinguishing. 

“You will answer to Fleet Admiral Shun,” finished Azulon as he stepped _through_ his curtain of fire, negligently waving to his left, where a man next to Ozai glanced at Hakoda. He was stern-looking, with grey mutton chops down his craggy face and dark yellow eyes. But his face was lined and tanned and he looked more like a Water Tribesman than anyone else in the room.

Feeling a bit brave, Hakoda called, “Am I ever given leave to return to my village?”

Azulon paused, and Hakoda’s breath hitched into his chest and stayed there as the man partially turned. He was a shadowy figure behind his flames, and Hakoda rushed to add, “I have a son - barely two - and my wife is pregnant with our second child--”

The Fire Lord sighed. “Very well. Once a year, and under heavy guard. Perhaps you’ll consider bringing your children here for their education.”

 _Unlikely,_ thought Hakoda, but he bowed in thanks. Hesitantly, before the man could tire of him fully, Hakoda asked, “Why are you doing this?”

Azulon’s form sank into his sitting position, melting to the red of the flames, but Hakoda heard his voice clearly. “Do I not destroy my enemies when I make friends with them, Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe?”

And like that, his first - but not his last - meeting with Fire Lord Azulon was over. 

The men and women in uniforms quickly rose to their feet and bowed as one to their leader, many dispersing into smaller groups as they left the throne in silence. Hakoda kept his eyes on them, cataloging who went with whom, and an eye on the Fire Lord himself as his shadowy figure was slowly swallowed by the red curtains behind him -- there was another passage up there for him to disappear through.

Ozai and the other man nearest Azulon strode purposefully toward Hakoda. He stiffened in response, especially given the stare Ozai was giving him. As they came closer, Hakoda saw that Ozai was similar in age to him -- probably in his mid-twenties as well -- with shoulder-length black hair and piercing golden eyes, as well as a slim face and long nose. The other man had a squarer face and was burly in body, more of a soldier than a scholar by the look of his muscles. He was much older, as there was already grey in his black hair and laugh lines around his mouth and eyes.

“Greetings Admiral,” the older said, giving Hakoda a tiny bow in traditional water tribe manner. “I am Crown Prince Iroh.”

Startled, Hakoda copied the move. A small glimmer of warmth spread from his chest. Perhaps there could be more good found in the Fire Nation than he initially thought.

“You should bow in the _proper_ Fire Nation ways,” Ozai broke in, his voice haughty and proud. “With your fist. Like this.” And then he demonstrated, his slanted eyes almost catlike as he fixated on Hakoda. “Now you.”

Hakoda grit his teeth but copied the fist to his open palm move, bowing lower than Ozai’s mere dip of his head. 

“You should address me with my title,” Ozai continued lazily. 

“Ozai,” sighed Iroh.

Hakoda glanced quizzically between the two. “I’m sorry… I don’t know who you are…”

Ozai’s high cheekbones and ear tips went red while Iroh hooted with laughter, so hard that tears were in his eyes. 

“I am Prince Ozai, Fire Lord Azulon’s second son,” said Ozai through his teeth, “And I will be addressed by my title!”

Swallowing, Hakoda redid his Fire Nation bow and said, “Prince Ozai,” carefully and quietly.

Appeased, Ozai nodded. 

Iroh, however, gave Hakoda a small grin. “Until we meet again, Rear Admiral,” and then he ushered his younger brother away, despite Ozai’s irritated look. Another man had been hovering behind them, politely out of the way: Fleet Admiral Shun. 

“Come,” the man said, his voice quiet but firm. Hakoda could appreciate that. “Let me give you a tour of the naval office and then to your rooms.”

Hakoda nodded in thanks, preferring to be silent. He sold his soul for his tribe’s survival, and now he would have to make the best of it in the Fire Nation.

 _We are water. We adapt,_ Kya’s voice reminded him. Hakoda would adapt to his new reality, and well, when in enemy waters, water could be patient.

 _Hakoda_ could be patient.

**

{TBC}


	2. II: He May One Day Become Your Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakoda keeps his end of the bargain; Ozai decides to be friends with Hakoda (not like he knows what that means), and three years in the Fire Nation go by quickly.

A Spark (To Light the Way Home)

*

II: He May One Day Become Your Friend

* * *

_Reveal not every secret you have to a friend, for how can you tell but that friend may hereafter become an enemy. And bring not all mischief you are able to upon an enemy, for he may one day become your friend._

\-- Saadi

* * *

Shun was the one who led Hakoda from the palace, explaining to him how their navy worked -- vaguely, he wasn’t about to go into details -- and about some of the specifics of their ships. 

Already, Hakoda had some ideas of what was going wrong in their designs that he could bring to their attention. Whether they listened to him or not was going to be another challenge -- he was still a Water Tribe savage to these men and women, and Azulon’s granting him the title of rear admiral instead of captain was less of a sea prune and more of rock around his neck. The title granted him protection, but it also meant he was a showpiece to the other colonies and their enemies in the Earth Kingdom and his sister tribe: _Look! Look at what I did! I can convince even a chief of the Water Tribe to join us! We’re not so bad, surely?_

Hakoda resisted sighing as Shun turned down a wide street, maybe three or so down from the palace. There were houses on either side, facing one another on large lots surrounded by white walls that were three times Hakoda’s height. Each house had its own private gardens and landscaped trees that Hakoda could see peeking out from above the walls and gates. The houses were only two or three stories, all slightly different, with sloping tiled roofs. There was an _engawa_ wrapping around the bottom of each house, as well as the second (or third) floors with decorative railings for the smaller upper levels. 

Shun stopped at the very end of the street, where the last house’s wall diagonally cut into fire-smoothed black volcanic rock from the edge of the volcanic bowl. A grassy wedge-shaped park with a tree with drooping arms and silver leaves swayed in the warm evening breeze. Some of its branches hit or draped over a half-size stone wall that curled down into stairs along a cliff and behind the house on the opposite side of the street.

“I will give you a few days to acclimate yourself to your home,” finished Shun as they came to a stop in front of that house, its gates open. Hakoda spied some people loitering on the engawa, or just below it on the stone path leading to the house, all hovering anxiously.

“Thank you,” replied Hakoda, wondering how he was going to figure out where to sleep or stay.

Shun nodded, once, and turned to leave.

Blinking, Hakoda blurted, “Wait! Isn’t this… _your…_ house?”

Shun turned around, staring at Hakoda in shock, and then back at the house he left him in front of. Then he frowned. “I am the Fleet Admiral. When staying in Caldera, I have a home next to the palace to indicate my rank. This is _your_ home while you are here in the Fire Nation.”

Hakoda stood in shock, turning back to the two-story house with new eyes. It was so large! All of his tribes’ homes could fit lengthwise to the property and still have room to spare! He could fit his entire village in the property!

Gulping, he stepped through the gate with hesitance, eyeing the people who stood stiff when they saw him. They were all in Fire Nation colours, the red of their outfit similar to each other's with vague differences, except for the group of fifteen soldiers without their skull-like faceplates. There was one man with a black mustache at the front, who stepped out of line to greet Hakoda.

“Sir,” he began, in a very neutral voice, “I am Lieutenant Kota of your guards.”

“My _what_?” asked Hakoda, almost physically reeling back.

The man seemed a bit discomforted, but he repeated, “Your guards. All admirals receive a small troop for their personal protection. I will also be running your household unless you choose someone as seneschal, or your wife joins you here.”

Hakoda, almost overwhelmed to the point of being done with the entire Fire Nation, saying “screw it,” and returning to the Southern Water Tribe, merely nodded and said, wearily, “Alright then. Who is everyone else?”

Kota turned sharply on his heel and began pointing people out:

“That is Yoshiro - he is in charge of the grounds.”

“This is Chika - she is your cook.”

“And Moriko will take care of cleaning the rooms.”

Each had at least three others working under them that Kota did not introduce, and Hakoda found himself wondering how he got to this situation. When he accepted Azulon’s deal, he was expecting a dungeon cell! 

“Bed, please?” asked Hakoda after he gave a tiny smile and nod to each of them. His eyes lingered on Yoshiro and Moriko, both who had the dark hair and brown eyes of Earth kingdom, while Chika was Fire Nation with her black hair and whiskey eyes.

“This way, sir,” Moriko said, gesturing.

Hakoda left Kota and everyone else, too tired to give a proper Fire Nation bow -- or Water Tribe, or Earth Kingdom -- and followed the young woman inside the house, gaping as she absently pointed out rooms as they passed: “This is your office, sir; that is the ladies parlour for your wife, should she join us. This hall leads to the kitchen, and this here is your informal dining area and _this_ is the formal dining room.”

Upstairs, Moriko pointed out the main bedroom, facing the street and cliffside. From the window, Hakoda could see down to the harbour and shipyards. 

“There are two other bedrooms on this level, sir,” continued Moriko, fluffing a thin pillow on a raised bed in the middle of the room. “They face the gardens, training area, and the waterfall.” She then added, “There are two small baths up here, and then a hot spring on the grounds.”

 _Okay,_ thought Hakoda, done. _Thank you_. He was sure he said it out loud, but he collapsed on his bed, fully clothed, and was out.

* * *

For the first few months, Hakoda did everything he could to learn about the Fire Nation and his new job. He learned the names of all the admirals, and then the captains for good measure, and even had started on the generals. He had a Fire Nation tutor that explained their history and culture, and spent every other waking moment with Admiral Shun down at the shipyard, watching their recruits and seasoned officers run drills. He toured their warships - from the small _Komodo_ to the large, battle class _Sozin_ \- and slowly, was pointing out more things that could be altered in design.

He wrote to Kya, and although he was sure that not only Shun but Azulon and potentially Ozai and Iroh, had read his letters, he ensured that there were no Fire Nation secrets that they would care about.

Kya’s response came shortly after, instead of months later, thanks to the increased trade and shipping routes between the two places, and the use of their hawks.

 _You have a daughter,_ was the first thing he read. _I named her Katara, after your mother and mine. She’s doing well and Sokka dotes on her already._

Then, she wrote about their village: _Everyone is doing well. In fact, we have at least five new pregnancies, thanks to the increased supplies that the Fire Nation brings._

Which led to _Initially, Captain Naoka had difficulty. He is a solemn man, very quiet and I am sure, unhappy to be here in the cold, but he is dedicated and straightforward with his reasons and decisions._

_He and his men kept trying to build their outpost but they had never built on ice before. Eventually, one of the elders had to offer their help. Naoka was receptive of it, at least, while some of his men weren’t, but he listened to Tiriaq’s suggestions and while their outpost is further from the village than they wanted, it is actually on a rock shelf now and not the ice._

It was something, to read about the Fire Nation and Water Tribe getting along. But with the Fire Nation’s supplies feeding his people, helping them repair their homes, Hakoda found that his decision to sell himself and them to the Fire Nation began to ease some of the anger his heart carried. He would always be bitter, but he had to make the best of it. 

While he missed Sokka, and was eager to see Katara, he knew it would be several more months before he would even think about asking for leave -- if not a few years, given his precarious position. He would have to earn it.

With a press of his lips, he carefully placed the letter away with the others he received from Kya and his mother and went back to work.

* * *

Even though Hakoda considered himself the Fire Nation’s pet, he always thought it meant work, and out of sight, out of mind. At least, until Shun cornered him one day and said, “Your household servants will make sure you have the proper attire.”

“Proper attire for what?” asked Hakoda, baffled.

Shun stared at him. “For the Winter Solstice Festival, of course.”

Hakoda nodded despite not knowing about that - his tutor never covered it - and raced back to his home as soon as he could. The first person he saw was Kato, and immediately, sprinting toward the man (and making his eyes widen), Hakoda shouted, “Kato! What’s the Winter Solstice Festival?”

The relieved man released his tight shoulders and let out an inaudible sigh. 

Hours later, Hakoda was at the palace, in one of the many courtyards that were strung up with paper lanterns and silky red sheets that flapped in the wind from the exterior columns or the pagodas that were placed on tiny hills throughout the yard. There were tables set up with finger foods, and tables for people to sit and chat at, but the majority of the people were standing and talking with their wines and heavy liqueurs if they were enlisted or congregating by the food and stage if they were civilians. 

Hakoda felt very out of place in his fancy formal attire, which was in Fire Nation red but cut in Water Tribe style. Instead of the long tunics and trousers the military wore, his top was more of a tight-cut jacket (but less _fluffy_ than his parka), following similar sharp lines to the Fire Nation robes. However, the lines of his rank in the lapel were the same as the lines on the front lapels of the robes the other admirals wore, so at least Hakoda still had his new rank to signify his position at court. Finally, the trousers were less voluminous at the knee, tapering down into boots instead of the curled-toe shin-high boots they wore. 

Despite being tight and slightly restrictive, Hakoda found he preferred this cut over what the others had to wear, and judging from some of the looks he was getting from the younger members of the navy and army he recognized, he wasn’t the only one.

“My, don’t you look nice,” drawled a vaguely familiar voice.

Hakoda turned from his spot by one of the thick trees, partially hidden under its canopy and in the shadows where he could avoid being turned into a spectacle for the Fire Nation citizens to exclaim over. Ozai had taken up a spot next to him, also hidden by the canopy. He had a glass of something amber in his hand, and his eyes were sweeping the crowd instead of looking at Hakoda.

Hakoda looked down at his uniform and shrugged. “I do like it,” he said, smoothing a hand down the front.

Ozai glanced over, and his thin lips turned up. “I’ll take the compliment.”

“You, Prince Ozai?” asked Hakoda carefully, confused.

The prince nodded. “After we met I was imagining you in Fire Nation robes, and while it was _hilarious_ \-- it didn’t suit. So I had the royal seamstress design those for you. Something unique for a unique… situation, don’t you think?”

There was something in the man’s tone that Hakoda couldn’t quite decipher - was it mocking? Cruel? Instead, he took the words at face value, thinking that would annoy the man more than trying to read into them and smiled pleasantly at the prince. “Thank you. They’re similar to Water Tribe clothing, so I feel at home in this.” 

Then, leaning forward the tiniest bit toward the prince, Hakoda dropped his voice to a mock-whisper and said, “And I think you may have inadvertently started something - I’ve had more envious looks than I’ve had my entire life, and it’s all because of the uniform!”

Ozai blinked, staring at Hakoda. Then, his body shook and the liquid in his glass trembled and sloshed over the sides as he bent at the middle, wheezing in laughter. 

Hakoda stared at the man. _Had_ he _done that?_ He wondered. His joke wasn’t _that_ funny…

But Ozai composed himself. He reached forward with his free hand and clapped Hakoda on the shoulder. His hand was burning hot even through the three layers of clothing Hakoda wore, and he nearly startled at the heat the man was exuding. He’d never been that close to a firebender before.

“Hakoda,” the prince grinned, “you have made this festival _so much_ better.” He stifled another laugh, shaking his head a little. “I’ll see you around, Rear Admiral.”

“Erm,” began Hakoda, totally confused. “Okay.”

* * *

Ozai kept his promise, showing up not even four days later at the shipyard. Hakoda was stripped to his trousers, covered in engine oil, grease, and coal dust when the man appeared, casually strolling down the wooden planks that separated the partially built and disassembled _Komodo_ -class ships.

Hakoda was half under the belly of the ship with one of the engineers, going over the locations of the bolts and rivets when the general background noise and commotion of the yard quieted into a dull silence. The two men shared a confused glance and Hakoda pushed himself out, gripping the lip of the ship as leverage.

Then blinked stupidly up at the sight of Ozai glancing around curiously, hands clasped behind his back. He looked completely removed from the shipyard, as though the dirt and grime refused to touch such a creature, and it was making everyone around nervous.

“Prince Ozai?” asked Hakoda, rising to his feet. “Can I help you with anything?”

“This is where you work?” the prince sniffed, turning to take in the Water Tribesman. “I thought admirals did _office work_ or something equally boring. Why are you covered in _dirt_?”

“It’s my job?” replied Hakoda, wincing a bit as it came out more like a question. “I’m supposed to go over the current ships for improvements.”

“And you do that by crawling underneath them?” Ozai’s lips curled in disgust. 

Hakoda shrugged. “Well, it’s been one of those days…” he paused and then, testing something, teased out, “Usually I just worry about papercuts.”

 _There!_ Hakoda spied the slightest upturn twitch to Ozai’s mouth. The prince was amused by him -- whether anyone else had the guts to tease or joke with the prince in fear of being burnt to a crisp. Hakoda supposed it was a good thing he was Water Tribe and used to the threat of Fire Nation to the point of almost being blase about potentially dying in a fiery inferno. It was something he knew was a possibility when he agreed to hostage himself in Caldera.

“It’s completely unacceptable for an admiral of the Fire Nation to look as filthy as you,” continued Ozai loftily. “Really, Hakoda - has no one taught you better?”

“It’s been a while and my mother isn’t around to remind me,” replied the man dryly. _Really, Ozai? Turning to childish insults and name-calling to get your way?_

“This _must_ be rectified immediately,” declared Ozai, turning on his shiny, booted heel. His robes swished a bit around his legs. “I am excusing you from the rest of your duties today.”

“Oh, you are,” replied Hakoda flatly, raising his eyebrows in challenge. He was tempted to cross his arms but figured that would be too combative, so he settled for parade rest.

Ozai either ignored the tone, or it completely went over his head. “Yes, come. We must --” he glanced over Hakoda’s dirty body and frowned. “--get _this_ sorted first.”

And that was how Hakoda found himself taking a half-day of work, and spending the rest of it at a spa, being pampered and scrubbed within an inch of his life, cleaner than he ever thought he had been. 

“Is this really necessary?” whined Hakoda, trying to blink suds from his eyes as two attendants took brushes to him while another poured a bucket of warm water over his head.

“Yes,” replied Ozai from where he leaned against the wall opposite Hakoda’s tub. “I refuse to be seen with such a filthy peasant. This really is for your own good.”

Hakoda muttered something under his breath and the nearest attendant dunked him in response. He came up sputtering. “Seen?”

Ozai looked down, inspecting his nails. “Hakoda, I am _choosing_ to spend my time with you. As such, your appearance is a reflection upon _me_ . As I don’t associate with ruffians, you cannot _look_ like one, despite your unfortunate Water Tribe heritage.”

“Oh, clearly,” agreed Hakoda sarcastically, rolling his eyes. 

Ozai glanced up, narrowing his eyes on the man. “Are you mocking me?”

Hakoda stared up at the prince, widening his eyes to appear as innocent as he could. “Why would I do that?”

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, while the attendants hovered and froze equally in horror, hoping that the prince took no notice of them. Then, slowly, Ozai smirked. “I hope not. Now - is he clean? He needs to be dressed and we have places to be.”

“Such as?” asked Hakoda as an attendant raced forward with a warm towel.

“Patience, Hakoda,” grinned Ozai, an expression that Hakoda couldn’t quite figure out as either genuinely happy (but rare and therefore out of practice) or predatory (and therefore something to be concerned about).

Hakoda sighed. “Very well.”

His patience was rewarded when Ozai took him to a fancy restaurant in Caldera after the spa, ordering very specific things from the menu and all but ordering Hakoda to try each one. The confused man did so, and after each bite, in which Ozai would watch the Water Tribesman carefully with an intensity that was, frankly, frightening, he would demand to know Hakoda’s thoughts.

Wary, and concerned that if he didn’t like something he would get the chef killed, Hakoda kept his responses polite but did happily exclaim over meals he enjoyed -- the fire flakes were a great additional snack at the end that he found himself eagerly finishing.

Then, they were at a tailors, terrifying the seamstress into a gibbering mess until Hakoda had to step in between her and Ozai, gently explaining what Ozai wanted. Then he realized what Ozai wanted: a full wardrobe for Hakoda in Water Tribe cuts but Fire Nation colours.

It was baffling. It was the oddest afternoon of Hakoda’s life.

It got weirder when Ozai told Hakoda they were going to the palace for their evening meal, absently directing the seamstress to send Hakoda’s new wardrobe to his house. (For a moment, Hakoda stuttered and stopped breathing - _Ozai knows where I live!_ \-- and then his heartbeat slowed to normal.)

Hakoda was a fish out of water at the palace and did his best not to fidget as Ozai confidently swept past the blank-faced guards who didn’t stop Hakoda. He had never been this far into the palace, other than the throne room to see Azulon, and the many hallways began to look the same after the third turn. Ozai also set a steady pace, never looking back to confirm Hakoda was still following him, so the Water Tribesman did his best to keep his fretting to a minimum.

Eventually, Ozai stopped and slid open a screen door with a fancy design of dragons, fire, and mountains. The interior room revealed a thin, pointy-chinned young woman in an elegant red dress and a fidgeting toddler, whose eyes lit up when the two men entered.

“Da--!” he exclaimed, and Hakoda grinned.

Ozai ignored the boy, partially facing Hakoda as he said, “Hakoda - my wife, Princess Ursa.”

Hakoda bowed at the waist, hand to fist to indicate his respect for the woman. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess.”

The woman’s dark eyes lit up. “You must be the newest admiral. The court is practically a-twitter with gossip about you.”

“I hope it’s all good,” replied Hakoda easily, coming up from his bow. 

Her lips twisted the tiniest amount, and Hakoda knew it was because the court hardly cared about a Water Tribesman in the Fire Nation. But he still smiled, taking the sting from her implied silence.

“And who is this?” continued Hakoda, crouching down and looking at the boy who was gripping his mother’s shoulder tightly. He had a shy hand near his mouth, but his golden eyes were curious. 

Ursa nudged the boy, murmuring something to him, even as Ozai moved to seat himself nearest Ursa at the low table. He was ignoring the interactions completely.

The toddler mumbled something.

Ursa smiled fondly at the boy and smoothed his black hair back, making it stand up everywhere. It was too short to go in a phoenix plume - what they called their wolf’s tail -- and the boy wiggled under the hand.

“This is Zuko,” said Ursa instead, as Hakoda sat down opposite her and on Ozai’s right. “He’s nearly three.”

“My son is the same age,” said Hakoda. 

The two parents shared a look.

“Zuko, come,” urged Ursa, maneuvering him to sit next to her. “Let’s eat.”

“He should be in the nursery with the girl,” muttered Ozai, eyes flickering to his son briefly. “You’re coddling him and he’s not old enough to dine with us.”

“He wanted to see you,” replied Ursa, not even glancing at her husband.

Hakoda watched Ozai watch Ursa, and he saw something _soften_ in the prince’s eyes as he looked at his wife. Then, the prince sighed and reached for his chopsticks, beginning to pile food on his plate. 

“What did you do today?” continued Ursa, and Ozai launched into a detailed account of taking Hakoda around Caldera, of the spa, the restaurant, the tailor, the tour of the gardens with specific stops at all the water features, and firebending training grounds, and then finally Hakoda’s new-found love for fire flakes, before finishing on returning to the palace. 

Ursa hummed and nodded at all the right spots, but the more Ozai went on - including peppering their afternoon with despairing remarks and degrading comments about the guards, the waiters, the attendants, etc., etc., - the more Ursa turned to Hakoda with wide, incredulous eyes.

Hakoda himself had nothing to add unless Ozai asked for his thoughts -- and then the prince would run over his answers anyway -- so he kept quiet and enjoyed his meal, sneaking a break every so often to make funny faces at Zuko, who grinned as he got over his shyness. 

Eventually, Zuko fell asleep against Ursa. “I must take him to bed,” she apologized, running her hand through his hair.

Ozai scowled. “One of the servants could do that.”

“It’s been a long day, my love,” the woman replied, although there was a certain stiffness, or resigned feel, to her. She scooped Zuko into her arms and rose.

The man’s scowl deepened, but both he and Hakoda rose to their feet.

“Goodnight, Princess,” bowed Hakoda. 

Ursa paused to glance back at Hakoda. “Goodnight, Rear Admiral Hakoda. It was nice to meet Prince Ozai’s… friend.”

When she left, it was like she had taken the warmth with her. Ozai’s expression was thunderous - or more, a child who had his favourite toy denied him - and was clenching his hands so tightly steam escaped around them.

Hakoda eyed that cautiously, even as Ozai took a deep breath, relaxing his hands until the steam dispersed. 

“I trust you can find your way home?” the man asked, coolly. 

“Yes,” replied Hakoda quietly. He bowed. “Thank you for your company today, Prince Ozai.”

The man huffed, waving a hand absently, and left the dining area and Hakoda alone. Thoughts tumbling over themselves, Hakoda left the room and wandered the palace until he stumbled upon a guard and haltingly explained he was lost -- then he received an escort and was back at his home in less than an hour.

It wasn’t until he was nearly asleep that Hakoda realized Ozai had no idea how to be friends with someone, but that day had been about Ozai showing Hakoda all his favourite places and things, figuring out what Hakoda liked about the things _he_ liked.

Somehow, Ozai wanted to be Hakoda’s friend.

* * *

It was still weird, months and months later. 

But the Fire Nation court had grown used to the odd sight of Ozai showing up at the shipyards and then taking Hakoda from his duties, or Hakoda joining Ozai when he was training on the palace grounds (“as a _spectator_ only, of course,” Ozai would drawl, “what could a non-bending Water Tribesman do to _me_?”), or the Rear Admiral joining the Prince and his wife at events, by the man’s side.

Hakoda hadn’t quite gotten used to it, and he wasn’t sure how to explain it to Kya in a letter, either. And since he was sure Ozai would read the letter, he decided to just… not mention it.

Except, as time trickled on into his third year in the Fire Nation, he kind of… _did_ mention it in his letters, even without realizing it. It wasn’t until Kya sent a reply, years later of Hakoda being in Caldera, that she tentatively mentioned it.

 _You write about Prince Ozai a lot, ‘Koka,_ she began in loops and cursive. _I didn’t know you were close._

Hakoda stared at the letter in his hands and tried to think back to when he mentioned Ozai -- only to realize it was always an absent afterthought: “Oh, I saw a play called _Love Amongst the Dragons_ recently as it is Princess Ursa’s favourite, so Ozai dragged me along with him to see it with her,” and “Ozai challenged a man to an Agni Kai the other day. It was short. He’s a really good firebender,” and “Someone has ensured that there’s a steady supply of fire flakes at the desk at the shipyard. Ozai’s the only person who knows I like them here…”

 _Just when had the prince snuck so much into my daily life?_ wondered Hakoda. He took a slow look around his office in his house, and with a start, realized how much of a _life_ he had made in Caldera.

There were knickknacks spread around the room: seashells that Sokka and Katara sent him, taking up places of honour; even a beautiful beaded Water Tribe tapestry that his mother and Kya had made for him, detailing their village in high winter with the Aurora Borealis wavering high above them. 

But there were other things, too: fancy ink pots and stylus’ in engraved gold and jewels, detailed schematics of Fire Nation ships, including ancient designs that Ozai had commissioned for Hakoda to put up as decoration in his office; there was even a large ceramic pot with roses from Ursa’s private garden, providing the room with greenery. 

Scrolls about the Fire Nation littered the bookshelf, as well as some rare Water Tribe scrolls and histories Iroh gifted Hakoda for his birthday a few months previously. The Crown Prince, Lu Ten, was interested in joining the army with his father and campaign in the Earth Kingdom, had given him a few Earth Kingdom tokens he had found the last time he visited the place and his father. 

How had his life become so entwined with the Fire Nation? He was _supposed_ to be a prisoner; he was _supposed_ to learn about them and then chip away at things, to subvert them from the inside. Not _become_ one of them!

But he also found he couldn’t just _stop_ himself -- Ozai wound himself into his life like the creeping frost of the first day of winter, arriving uninvited but always coming back for more. Perhaps Hakoda was a novelty; Ozai never had anyone humour him or reply back in less than adoration. Whatever it was, and despite Ozai’s own inability to behave like a normal human being, they were… friends.

Hakoda never expected to be friends with a Prince of the Fire Nation, but then again, life hadn’t been the same since Azulon’s deal.

He was still sitting in his office when Ozai strode in, an apologetic and breathless Moriko appearing a few moments after, wanting to announce the prince to Hakoda. Instead, he waved her off. “Don’t worry about it, Moriko. The Prince goes where he pleases.”

Ozai rolled his eyes and placed himself in a chair by Hakoda’s desk, eyeing the schematics he had laid out and was reviewing before he read Kya’s letter. His hands twitched as he stilled them on his legs, ill at ease sitting in Hakoda’s preferred chairs over _seiza_. “New design?”

“One of them, but right now I’m just going over it again in case I missed anything,” replied Hakoda, putting Kya’s letter away in a box that held all the others she sent over the years. After, Hakoda peered at Ozai and frowned. “Is something going on? You’re antsy.”

“The Fire Lord is going to call for a full assembly this afternoon.”

Hakoda froze. “Is -- Is everything okay?”

Ozai eyed Hakoda, and then chided, “You know I can’t say anything.” He paused, and then his lips curled. “But I wouldn’t be worried about anything if I were you.”

“Comforting,” sighed Hakoda, “But that also means _someone else_ should be worried.”

“Who cares?” Ozai waved a negligent hand. “Now, come -- you can’t attend the meeting wearing _that_. Surely you have something much more appropriate in your wardrobe?”

Hakoda rolled his eyes. “You would know since you bought or designed most of it.”

Ozai’s smile was a sharp grin, and less than an hour later had Hakoda dressed in the sharp-looking uniform that some of the other admirals were beginning to copy, although Hakoda’s was still in Water Tribe blue. “Yes, this is what you should wear.”

“Isn’t this a bit much?” asked Hakoda, pulling at the jacket. “Shouldn’t I wear red to blend in?”

“No, this is fine. Stop fussing, Hakoda.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Ozai glared, but then shuffled Hakoda out of the room and the house, and toward the palanquin he had left on the street, where a few nosy wives were trying very hard to not gawk. The prince ignored them, even as he climbed in and made room for Hakoda, who hated the thing.

“Could’ve walked,” he muttered.

Ozai shot him a look. “Like a _peasant?_ Please, Hakoda. After all these years, you’d think you’d know better.”

 _Or you would realize I do it to wind you up,_ thought Hakoda with a grin, leaning back. The ride was thankfully short, and then the two were escorted (well, Hakoda was; Ozai led and no one was going to escort him anywhere) to the throne room where a few generals and Fleet Admiral Shun already loitered. More and more filled in, including Iroh who gave a respectful nod at Hakoda when he caught his eyes. Lu Ten was with him, solemn-faced for sixteen despite his eyes bouncing around the room - when they stopped on Hakoda, he smiled.

“Hakoda,” greeted Shun pleasantly, a small smile on his relaxed face. He radiated a sense of contentedness.

Whatever was happening, it had nothing to do with the navy, so Hakoda relaxed a bit more. “Admiral Shun.”

“Hakoda, come,” commanded Ozai, gripping the man by the arm and dragging him away from Shun. Hakoda winced but sent an apologetic smile while the other admiral dipped his head in response. “Sit here.”

Then Ozai was sinking to the floor in his usual spot, the closest to the Fire Lord’s flames as prince; but he wanted Hakoda to sit next to him, on his right, where Shun usually sat as head of the navy.

“Prince Ozai, I’m not sure--” Hakoda whispered frantically, eyes glancing around the room as it filled and he felt more and more hostile glares sent his way.

“ _Sit._ ”

Hakoda did, inelegantly just to annoy Ozai, and then as he adjusted himself to sit properly, he took advantage of the noise of the army generals’ armour clanking to grumble at Ozai, “I’m not a polar dog, you know. You could just say ‘please.’”

“I’m a prince, Hakoda, I don’t need to be polite,” sniffed Ozai in response.

Hakoda refused to say anything else, even as Shun sat next to him, shuffling the line down. Hakoda gave the man a tiny shrug, and the Fleet Admiral, in response, eyed Ozai with the slightest amount of ire.

Then Azulon was there, the flames crackling and building as he directed his raspy voice over them. “Gentlemen - allow me to begin this meeting with good news.”

This made everyone in the room sit up.

“Admiral Shun recently informed me that two of our _Sozin_ battle class ships were recently retrofitted with the changes that Rear Admiral Hakoda suggested,” the Fire Lord began. “The two ships - _Dancing Dragon_ and _Fist of Fire_ \- reached the Earth Kingdom in record time, nearly an entire week ahead of schedule. Furthermore, the redesigned hull shape allowed for more storage and we were able to send far more soldiers than before.”

Murmurs of surprise and admiration spread throughout those on the throne room floor. Hakoda himself was surprised - he had been working on the two ships and knew the redesigns had been approved but he hadn’t known they were already sent out to be tested.

“With the increased soldiers and reduced time, Earth Kingdom spies inaccurately planned, and as such, the Fire Nation was able to take Fort Yating _and_ Ah Bao with little resistance!” 

The men around him cheered, but Hakoda’s stomach began to churn.

Even though he was hidden by the flames, Hakoda could feel Fire Lord Azulon’s eyes on him as the man spoke next. “And our success is due to Rear Admiral Hakoda’s designs. While some argued against reaching out to the Southern Water Tribe, my decision was the correct one. Your ship designs ensured a swift attack and a significant advance into the Earth Kingdom, Admiral.”

Hakoda’s throat was dry, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, but he somehow found the ability to bow in correct deference and murmured, “Thank you, Fire Lord.”

When he sat up, he clamped his mouth shut to keep his lunch from making an appearance. At his left, Ozai caught his eye and subtly nudged his shoulder against Hakoda’s, a smug and proud look on his face. On Hakoda’s right, Shun gave the younger man a respectful and proud nod.

“I’m sure with this success, you are eager to see your family,” the man continued in a rasp. “Three years had been too long, has it not? Take a ship and visit the Southern pole - a short trip, mind. We have work to do here.”

Then Azulon continued to speak, in a sharper tone toward a few of the now-sweating generals, but Hakoda tuned them out. His blood rushed in his ears and he was sure he had gone pale.

 _Did you forget?_ He had to remind himself. _These people are not your friends. They want to destroy the world. You_ let _yourself forget._

In a blink, the meeting was over and Hakoda was standing, Ozai standing proudly next to him as he directed thanks from the other admirals and generals regarding Hakoda’s designs. Hakoda vaguely remembered his responses, Iroh’s curious eyes, Lu Ten’s admiration, and then the next thing he knew, Ozai was pushing him back into the palanquin, telling him they were going to celebrate the next day before he left for the Southern pole.

Somehow Hakoda managed to stumble from the palanquin when it stopped outside his home and wave off Kato and Moriko when he pushed through the front door. He made it up the stairs, into his bedroom, and then to the bathroom without speaking.

Then, once he was sure no one was listening, he turned to the toilet and vomited.

* * *

{TBC}


End file.
